Stargate Evolution
by Mira Sol
Summary: On the surface it is a military school. Beneath the surface it is a sanctuary for mutants. And at its lowest depths there is a ring…
1. Chapter 1

Title: Stargate Evolution

Author: Mira Sol

Genre: Major AU, crossover with X-men (they are in a mutant universe, but there is no connection to the characters from X-men or any attempt to make parallels between X-men characters and Stargate characters)

Pairings: Jack/Daniel if any, other than that I don't know yet

Summary: In a world of newly arising mutants, Stargate Command is formed. On the surface it is a military school. Beneath the surface it is a school for mutants. And at its lowest depths there is a ring…

Warnings: Don't know yet. Probably violent in parts.

Spoilers: The Movie, first couple of episodes

Rating: probably PG-13-R. Pretty tame so far.

Chapter 1

1928-Egypt

Catherine walked cautiously over the dig site, curiosity overcoming her displeasure at the extreme heat. The tent may have shaded her body but it stifled her mind, an oasis of stale calm amidst the spirit of exploration and discovery surrounding them. Catherine walked among the workers, only listening with half an ear to their incomprehensible speech as she passed, until her ear latched upon English words. She approached the sounds, her eyes pausing to linger upon a table set aside with artifacts. Fascinated, she fingered a golden necklace, an emblem on its end in the shape of a disk with the picture of an eye.

"I'm telling you, these tales are preposterous," a man exclaimed, his accent heavy upon his words. Catherine listened with detached interest, more in relief at hearing English than any real desire to eavesdrop. The speakers were just out of sight, behind an impromptu wall of stacked crates.

"I would not be so sure," the second voice said in response to the first, "I have read valid, scientific documentation of the phenomenon. It is pure Darwinism. All species adapt, why shouldn't that include humans?

"Pure rubbish, you mean," the first voice insisted, "You are beginning to sound like my son. Next you will be talking about aliens and spaceships."

"But Nicholas, you've seen the evidence," voice two continued, his voice insistent.

"Precisely!" the first exclaimed, "Precisely my point, that people will see what it is they are wanting to see. We see the same evidence and you say yes, I say no. Until I see these mutations for myself, I am not believing."

Catherine fingered the necklace, listening as the speakers' voices grew more distant. Evidently, they were taking their argument elsewhere. Not finding their topic interesting enough to follow, Catherine lifted up the necklace for a closer look.

"You are contaminating the artifact," a carefully crafted voice announced from behind, causing her to jump guiltily and spin around. A boy stood there, even younger than she was by his size, and she glared down at him with the haughty height of an almost thirteen year old.

"I'm studying the artifact," she corrected him, "Now go away and play with your toys, Ballard." The boy flushed and his eyes narrowed.

"I am going to be an archaeologist," he insisted, "I am going to travel and explore and fight through the fierce jungles of the untamed world. You are just a silly girl with an important father, Miss Langford." It was her turn to flush, her hand tightening convulsively around the necklace.

"You have been too long in the sun," she answered, "You are more likely to find your own tomb than another's." He only stared at her stiffly for a moment, finally stuttering something out in Dutch that sounded less than complimentary.

"Your mother sent me to find you," he finished in English, "She worries that you stay too long in the sun." Catherine clinched her teeth, considering her response, when a great cry went up from the direction of the dig. Both children immediately forgot their squabble in favor of hurrying towards the commotion. Catherine didn't even notice that she still held the necklace, and when she did, she was glad to see that the boy hadn't noticed either and was able to slip it easily into her pocket.

The shouts grew louder as they approached; something heavy was being heaved from the ground. Catherine slipped between the sweat sleek bodies of the workers and onlookers, following a step behind Ballard who was using his small size to his advantage. Catherine recognized the voice of her father shouting for someone to be careful, and then she finally was at a point where she could see.

Before them and down a ways was a large pit. Already, smaller artifacts had been unearthed, scattered about the hole like so much debris now that the larger item had been found. It was a ring, a very large ring, one that was to haunt her all her days, taking over her life with an obsession rooted in that deep part of her soul that needed to understand. She did not know that then, and still she was filled with awe. It was then, as she stared at it, that the ring found its hold on her, when a fire within it reached out through the crowd and swept across the sands, seeking dormant genes. She felt its touch as a pulse, like fire, beating beneath the sand and up the soles of her feet and awakening her eyes into a world she could barely begin to comprehend.

The sand spoke to her, through her feet and into her head, showing her it secrets. She gasped, no longer even seeing that ring that would soon insinuate itself into her family's lives to the point of mania, overcome with the wonder of sight that had been awakened. It was as though she could see straight through the sand into its most hidden depths. If anyone had asked her, in that moment, the best places to dig for artifacts, she could have told them exactly where to go and what they would find. Then she blinked, and the awareness faded to a distant throb, like a veiled promise awaiting her decision to take another look. She didn't understand, then, what had happened. Nor did she understand what had just been unearthed. All she knew was that something had changed, something momentous and huge, and it was related to this ancient artifact newly wrestled from its resting place.

"Do you think it's a tomb they've found?" Ballard asked suddenly, and she glanced down at him. He didn't seem to have felt the jolt that had awakened her eyes at all.

"If it is a tomb," she answered, "It isn't for a person. There are no bones."

"How do you know?" the boy demanded scornfully. But Catherine didn't bother to answer. She continued to watch the men and the ring, reveling in the secret sensation of ancient stones beneath her feet, until her mother found them both and insisted they return to the shade for cool drinks and civilized company and gossip on the latest news concerning the mutant phenomenon.

Present day…more or less-New York

''''''''

Catherine sat in the back of the conference hall, looking over the heads of tight collared scientists to the nervous young man at the podium. His mannerisms were stiff from nerves, but his voice was impassioned, his eyes fervent as he pleaded his cause. He was, in essence, the antithesis of his audience: youthful passion masked in an ill-fitting suit, his hair well kept but long and his exuberant ideas embodied by his speech in opposition to all his audience understood to be Truth. He was doomed to failure from the start.

"We are laboring under the assumption that the ancient world was primitive," he explained, cajoled, "We are also persuaded that the mutant phenomenon is something new, only appearing within the last few generations. But I believe that this assumption is flawed."

He went on to explain, extrapolating from the presumed age of the pyramids and examples of writing that the smaller of the pyramids were, in fact, newer imitations, all the while turning all that was known in Egyptology on its head. His less than rapt audience was not pleased. When he reached his theory concerning mutants of the ancient world, presiding as gods, he was lost.

"And I suppose these powers came from aliens!" one scientist scoffed, "And mutants are genetic experiments!" While the speaker tried to stammer a reply, watching helplessly as his audience began to clear out, another man from the back called, "I hear you were one of the mutants from that NID scandal a few years back!"

"Mutants," another man grumbled, "Genetic defects more like it. They should all be destroyed."

"Look," the speaker said, desperately trying to obtain control, "All I'm saying is that the evidence points towards…an older…civilization…" The room was almost entirely empty now. Grasping at straws, he nervously asked the one or two men still seated if there was a lunch or something he didn't know about. Then, as even they cleared out, he gave up. Catherine slipped out the door before she was noticed. She had seen enough.

Minnesota

'''''''''''

The two men stood at attention before the door, waiting in the detached, yet polite style favored by the military. They didn't have to wait long before it was opened by an energetic, grandmotherly woman who bustled them eagerly inside.

"We are looking for Colonel Jack O'Neill," one of the men explained, eyeing the woman nervously. His partner barely restrained himself from rechecking the address.

"Come in, come in," the woman said, "He's upstairs. He's always upstairs ever since…" here she leaned forwards, whispering behind her hand, towards them, "Since their deaths. Just horrible what happened. I hear they broke right into the house while the colonel was away on a mission, killed them both. No one is saying anything but we all know who it was…those anti-mutant terrorists. And the colonel left all alone, poor dear, he just sits up in that room. I help as much as I can but, well." The second man looked intrigued but the first merely nodded in acknowledgement and started up the stairs. There was a notable chill in the air the further they climbed.

"Colonel O'Neill," the first man called, announcing their presence. There was no answer, but there was a slight noise, like the creaking of ice, and the men followed it to a door. The door was cracked open and a chill draft came from its direction, giving the uniformed men goose bumps even through their long sleeves.

"Colonel O'Neill?" the man asked again and he nudged the door further. It opened upon the icy caricature of a boy's room. Everything in the room; the bed, the dresser, the baseball trophies, and even a bundle of clothes left rumpled on the floor, was literally frozen, covered in a thin sheen of ice. The men in the doorway breathed out a light gasp and their breath came out as smoke. The only thing not frozen within the room was a man sitting dejectedly upon the bed. He looked up slowly as they entered, adjusting his posture to acknowledge them. He looked resigned, as though he already knew why they had come. He was being called back.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Dr. Samantha Carter walked determinedly into the office and stood at attention, waiting to be acknowledged. The general glanced at her and then back at the paperwork. She stood at attention with a long acquainted ease, the bearing of someone long familiar with military stance. She even looked the part of a soldier, her blond hair cut short and her clothes more functional than ascetically appealing. Altogether she exuded strength, confidence, and discipline while somehow managing, despite the drab wardrobe and the minimum touch of make up, to retain a strong willed femininity that belied her traditionally masculine style. If the general didn't know any better, he would have thought her to be at least a captain. As it was, he barely managed to stop himself from saying 'at ease'.

"Dr. Carter," he said instead, gesturing towards a chair, "Have a seat."

"General Hammond," she replied with a curt nod and sat down, holding herself so straight she almost looked rigid, and for the first time the general noticed the anxiety in her pose, hidden behind the otherwise formal stance.

"It says here you wish for a transfer to our underground facility," the general went on, looking over the long list of achievements, "After working for two years at Area 51 in their research division."

"Let's just say I don't approve of some of the NID's methods," she answered, her tone darkening slightly and for the first time her military bearing relaxed slightly, "I hear it's different here."

"You are referring to the mutant experiments," the general asked, frowning slightly himself. Her scowl deepened.

"I'm lucky they decided I'm useful," she answered, "I don't intend to stay around long enough to become a subject."

"So you are a mutant?" the general asked, watching her face closely. She hesitated, a look of uncertainty crossing briefly across her face. With all the anti-mutant groups around it wasn't surprising she hesitated to admit to any form of mutation. The look passed quickly however, replaced by one of determination.

"It's the reason I'm not military, sir," she answered, "I was considered too…unpredictable." Then she lifted her hand, concentrated briefly, and a pen lifted itself from its desk and flew into her hand. The general didn't even blink at this display of paranormal ability. "Telekinesis," she explained briefly. The general nodded. It was all in his report. He shuffled his notes and she fidgeted, finally sending his pen back to his desk.

"What exactly do you know of this institution, Doctor?" the general asked.

"I know it isn't really a military school," she answered, "And I know there is more to the institution than meets the eye." He nodded his head slightly in reply. Her security level clearance was enough to get her that much at least. "My father," she continued, "General Carter, he told me that you were different. That mutants here were respected. Not lab specimens."

"That's right," the general agreed, and she looked at him shrewdly.

"You're a mutant, aren't you sir." He looked at her for a moment with an unreadable expression before he broke out into a grin.

"Dr. Carter," the general said, standing up to offer her a hand, "Welcome aboard."

''''''''''''''''''

Daniel Jackson adjusted his glasses nervously, clutching at his tissue as though it were a lifeline. His allergies had flared up the moment his military transport had hit the first checkpoint. He said it was from travel, which was possible, though the doctors had told him it was at least partly psychological. He really didn't like military institutions.

The elevator didn't help. He always found elevators slightly disturbing. It had something to do with the sense of stepping over a vast emptiness, though the cables at least felt reassuringly steady and strong. This elevator was held over a depth that made him grasp convulsively for a handrail until he found himself huddled into a far corner, the walls reassuring behind his back. He sneezed explosively twice, and the distraction was enough for him to retain his equilibrium. He could sense the cables now, and concentrated on that rather than the empty space that fell beneath them. He _really_ hated military institutions.

"So they keep this top secret project beneath a school?" he asked, glancing nervously towards his escort. The two men stood rigidly with their arms folded before them, staring straight ahead as the elevator dropped. They didn't answer. Daniel shrugged slightly, already knowing probably more than he was supposed to. The school atmosphere they had passed through was obvious to anyone, as was its military nature. He had surmised they were taking him to a military school, which had seemed odd, particularly as it didn't seem to be completed yet; the feel of construction permeated the facility and he saw no students of any kind. It wasn't until they had reached the elevator that he had begun to sense the façade.

Twenty stories down, the elevator finally came to a rest. Daniel breathed a sigh of relief as the doors opened, though stepping out led to another uncomfortable sensation of walking beneath a ton of earth. At least the shaft hadn't felt buried, just deep. He was led to yet another check point, pushed through more doors, and finally led to yet another elevator. His anxiety increasing with every step, Daniel once again questioned his sanity. He hated the military, he hated being underground, and he hated elevators. So why had he agreed to come work in an underground military base?

"Only a little further down, Dr. Jackson," one of his escorts said, and belatedly he realized he had been hesitating to enter the elevator for a bit too long. He shuffled forward cautiously, trying to remind himself of the sensations Catherine Langford had projected. She was sincere when she promised he'd be safe, that he wouldn't be detained or held against his will. He needed the money. If he was totally honest with himself, he needed the challenge, the chance to make discoveries that wouldn't be instantly discredited when he couldn't make a valid explanation for _why_ he knew what he did. It wasn't just that he had nowhere else to turn. Catherine had offered him a chance to explore, to research and learn and teach, and, most importantly, to be believed without the negative anti-mutant reaction, and he intended to take that chance. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the elevator.

It was almost too much. The earth pressed heavily above his head; this shaft most certainly didn't lead up but it did lead down. He was standing over a vast chasm. Instinctively he reached with his senses, trying to find the bottom, and his tenuous hold on everything else left him until all he could feel was the void reaching down and down and down and the earth crushing him from above. He felt himself falling into the void, terror overcoming all his senses, until a sudden warmth invaded the cold, pulling him back.

He felt the heartbeat first, steady and reassuring and he clung to it desperately, pulling away from the fall and the sensation of being crushed. Next he became aware of a hand on his face, stroking his skin lightly, sparks of concern coming off it in waves. Slowly his regular senses returned to him and he discovered he had been pulled out of the elevator, that he was in fact laying against someone's chest while a warm voice spoke into his ear.

"Easy," the unknown voice said, "Feel me here, everything is solid, everything is safe." Daniel gasped slightly, and realized belatedly that he had been breathing in harsh, ragged breaths. He could feel the strain in his muscles, his own distress convulsing off him in waves, and with an effort he started to relax, gulping in deep breaths of air.

"You back with me?" the voice asked and Daniel pulled away, suddenly embarrassed, only to fall back again in a sudden fit of dizziness.

"I'm ok," he said, and the man eased him up further into an upright, seated position. Daniel took a moment to breath, then pushed himself away, stumbling for his feet. "I'm ok," he said again and he turned around to get his first good look at his helper. The man was military, that was apparent from his uniform and despite Daniel's complete lack of military expertise he could feel that the uniform signified someone of importance. The man in the uniform, however, didn't have the usual rigid aura he had come to associate with the uniform. His eyes drew Daniel with their depth, a core of pain, loyalty, a hint of deadly potential but a compassionate heart. He was also unmistakably a mutant, but different than any Daniel had ever known. He couldn't quite pin him down. Like a chameleon, his powers rippled away from his sight. For one moment it was like looking in a mirror and the next all he knew was ice. Finally Daniel blinked and pulled away completely, suddenly aware of how long and how intently he had been studying the man. The eyes simply looked back, impossibly deep, almost painful to look at, waiting for Daniel to catch his bearings.

"Doctor Jackson," someone said from behind him and he turned to see his escort still waiting, looking slightly uncomfortable. They stood next to the elevator but they seemed hesitant to invite him into it once more.

"Going down?" the man who had been his anchor asked, and Daniel started slightly, then sneezed.

"Ah, yeah," he answered, and reluctantly approached the elevator. The other stepped in first ahead of him, offering him a hand.

"Feel my heartbeat," he suggested, his voice gentle, "I won't let you fall." Daniel blushed, realizing suddenly that this man knew exactly what had happened the first time he had entered, but he took his hand and tentatively took a step. The emptiness opened beneath his feet but there was also the warmth of the skin touching his hand, the steady beat of blood and instinctively he did as the man had asked, focusing in on that.

"The cables are strong," the man continued, "You can feel how strong. We won't fall." The doors closed, leaving his escort on the other side. Daniel gasped when the elevator moved, clutching the hand tightly, but the man's other hand reached up to steady him, lying firmly against his back. Finally, as they approached their destination, the sensation of endless depths left him and he felt himself relaxing. The elevator came to a stop. The doors opened as he took a steadying breath, and he pulled away from the other man, stepping through. He blushed again when he found a medical escort waiting for him, complete with gurney.

"Colonel," the small doctor in the lead admonished, "We were coming up to you."

"He just needed a little help coming down," the man answered, "He was zoning on the distance." Daniel tucked away the colonel information for later then blinked in surprise when what the colonel had said penetrated. It must have been something to do with the man's elusive mutant abilities, Daniel surmised.

"Be that as it may, I'd like to check him over myself," the doctor answered before turning her attention to Daniel. "Dr. Jackson? I'm Dr. Frasier. I hear you had a bit of a panic attack in the elevator."

"I'm fine," Daniel answered automatically, shoving nervously at his glasses and eyeing the doctor and the waiting gurney warily.

"Yes, well," the colonel said, suddenly shifting away from them, "I'll just go check in with General Hammond." He started to walk away and Daniel watched him, feeling suddenly bereft at his abrupt departure. Then the man paused, turning back towards Daniel, and the stark pain that filled his eyes made Daniel stumble.

"I'll see you later, Doctor Jackson," he said, before turning again and walking away. Unfortunately, the petite doctor at his side had noticed the stumble and was urging him towards the gurney.

"I can walk," Daniel insisted on autopilot, his mind still going over what he had seen in the colonel's eyes. It didn't help his case that his footing was still a bit unsteady, his heartbeat just a bit too fast for the doctor's liking, but she finally agreed to forego the gurney in favor of a wheelchair. Accepting the lesser of two evils, Daniel allowed himself to be wheeled down the hall in the direction of the infirmary.

"So," he said, conversationally, "Do all military schools have secret deep underground bases or is this one just special?"

"Actually, the school is quite new," Dr. Frasier answered, "They're still thinking up names. At the moment it's a tie between Excelsior and Cheyenne."

"Excelsior?" Daniel asked in horror, "Are they _trying_ to advertise what this place is?" Doctor Frasier stared back at him blankly but one of her nurses giggled.

"So what exactly is this place?" Daniel asked. Dr. Frasier hesitated a moment before saying, "Well Dr. Jackson, welcome to Area 52." Daniel still wasn't sure if she was joking or not when they reached the infirmary.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

General Hammond shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he pulled out the last of his photos. Unlike the several files waiting for his attention, these photos were of a more personal nature, encased in small frames and set about his desk as a reminder to a life outside this buried base. Sometimes he needed every reminder he could get.

The stress of the job was already getting to him. On the one side there were people like Maybourne and the NID who wanted their chance at the growing mutant population and on the other there were people like Senator Kinsey who wanted to turn the project into a detainment camp and ultimately, though the senator was careful never to actually say it, a mass termination facility. Kinsey had no love for mutants.

And finally, beneath the growing school, buried so far underground only a handful of people had high enough clearance to know it existed, there was the ring. Apparently it had been around for decades, but it was only now that it drew attention, now when the scientists who had been given access to it were finally approaching something of a break through. No one knew what it did, just that it must do something. This was no ancient monument; this was a technological device made from a material that was found to be alien to everything the scientist's knew. The likely conclusion was that it was alien to this planet.

The doorway to heaven, that was what they were calling it. That was what the experts had translated, and even they couldn't say what it did. For all they knew, it could be a very advanced, power draining electric chair. All they knew was that it spun, with the help of a dialing program, designed by one Dr. Samantha Carter. No one could think of it as anything other than dialing, the obvious resemblance to a phone too much to ignore. Around it were glyphs, glyphs that no one could translate but that all the experts agreed must somehow be Egyptian in nature. So far, the dialing program had managed to lock into place six glyphs, based upon the only number they had been given. Apparently it wasn't enough. Or the machine was simply broken, but too advanced in nature for anyone to even begin to understand the problem. Hopefully that would change soon. The higher ups were getting antsy for results, not satisfied with their progress.

The scientists were not much happier with the sudden military presence. Nor did they care for the sudden flow of new recruits to their ranks in the labs, many taking it as a message that their own skills are lacking. The added difficulty surrounding the mutant phenomenon meant that paranoia was at a new high. Mutants did not trust the military; they did not want to become lab specimens, nor did they want to become pawns in power games or war tactics. Trying to blend all of the different groups with all of their different objectives was enough to give anyone a headache. If Hammond hadn't known that he was needed he probably would have fled right back into retirement.

But he was needed. They needed someone in charge, someone of high rank, who could represent the mutants' best interest. In short, they needed a mutant already of high rank within the system. Not only were mutants rarer in the older generations, but in the military they seemed practically non-existent. If there was another general with mutant abilities, he was keeping very quiet. Hammond sighed, settling back into his chair and surveyed the photo arrangement. Tessa and Kayla would not grow up in a world where being a mutant was synonymous to being a leper.

"General Hammond," a voice announced at the door and he looked up to see a woman advanced in age but spry in spirit entering his office.

"Ms. Langford," he greeted her, standing up.

"Stargate," she announced, a bright twinkle in her eye, "That is the name for this program of yours." She handed him a piece of paper covered in hieroglyphics. Beneath the Egyptian symbols was the translation, scrawled in a swift but legible hand.

"Dr. Jackson has done it," she announced, an almost smug note to her voice, "He will solve the ring."

"I thought Dr. Jackson was taken to the infirmary," Hammond answered, frowning slightly as he looked over the translation. The symbols on the page were vaguely familiar but the translation he had been given was changed, the most obvious being the name for the ring.

"He must be allowed to see the ring," Catherine insisted in a firm voice. She said nothing on why Dr. Jackson was translating the inscription when he was supposed to be being treated for a severe panic attack.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," General Hammond answered, his voice filled with real regret. From what he knew of Dr. Jackson's mutant abilities, he could probably solve their mystery just by touching the ring. Unfortunately, there was still enough anti-mutant paranoia coupled with a fear of a security breach that he hadn't been given authorization. Dr. Jackson was there for his translation expertise, not his mutant abilities. "He will have to make do with the cover stone." Catherine mumbled something in reply that wasn't in English; if Hammond had to guess he'd say German.

"Has he been shown the cover stone yet?" Hammond asked when it seemed Catherine had finished.

"No," she answered, "He has not, in fact, been released by your infirmary staff. There have been problems with him taking the elevator."

"Claustrophobia wasn't it?" Hammond asked, having only had time to glance at the reports.

"No," she answered, "Sensory anxiety zoning." Hammond nodded his head slightly, despite having no idea what that meant. There was another item on the agenda: take a closer look at the medical files. He glanced once again towards the photos, suppressing a sigh, before he turned his attention back on Catherine Langford.

"He will solve your ring," she insisted, "He will open the Stargate."

'''''''''''''''''''

Samantha Carter marched forward with a steady resolve, determined to make her way despite the fact that she felt utterly lost. It wasn't the stark uniformity of the military walls that left her befuddled; she was used to military bases having grown up on any number of them. She wasn't even lost in any literal sense, knowing exactly where she was going and how to reach there. It was more a sensation that reached into her soul, the isolated hopelessness that was as familiar as it was wretched. She felt it every time her father's job meant moving to a new location; uprooted and friendless, the weight of having to prove herself all over again to a new set of faces.

She had only been there for one week and already she had stepped on a few toes. Though many of the other scientists were friendly, some openly in awe of her reputation, others seemed to resent her unwanted intrusion upon their research. The research itself was surprisingly familiar; it seemed that much of the work they were doing was based upon her own research. She even remembered an odd puzzle or two that she had been given back in Area 51 which, at the time, she hadn't been told to what it related. Now, she could clearly see her own results. If anything, this revelation annoyed her because she could also see her own flaws. Top secret paranoia meant she had had to work in the dark, and now that she had a better understanding of what they were trying to do she could already see the bugs in the system.

Pointing out these flaws, while endearing her to those of the overawed faction, had rankled with others as she pulled apart two years of hard work. To others her very personality seemed to irritate. To the military personnel they disapproved of working alongside civilians; to fellow scientists she came off as too military for their liking. Then there was the ever present hostility towards her being a woman. In fact, the only resentment she had become familiar with over the years that she didn't encounter was towards her being a mutant. That, at least, was refreshingly accepted.

Within the week she had also discovered an ally, a friend who accepted her for who she was without revering her. Like Sam, she was spurned for her intelligence and her civilian status coupled with strength of will. Now, as the dismal lost feeling pervaded Sam, her steps unerringly led her away from the labs to seek companionship, and perhaps go for a bite to eat. Finally, her steady stride took her into the infirmary, one of the newer and still growing additions to the facility. Having already suffered through an embarrassingly thorough physical, Sam confidently made her way through the infirmary towards Janet's office.

The doctor was there, just as Sam had hoped. She was sitting at her desk, looking over a set of patient's records with an intense concentration, despite the fact that Sam knew she should be on break now.

"Janet?" Sam called, knocking on the door frame and the small doctor jumped slightly, giving a startled look towards the door.

"Sam?" she asked, then glanced at the clock in surprise. "I was just going over a new addition," she explained as she closed the file and eased away from her desk, "It's fascinating how many mutant abilities actually endanger the very person the abilities serve. And quite often everything we know about medicine just doesn't…but we were going to lunch, weren't we?"

"I don't mind listening," Sam insisted as they started out of the infirmary, "So long as you don't mind me going on about subatomic reactions." This time Sam walked with an easy gait, her stance relaxed. The dismal, lost feeling that had been growing all day evaporated in a moment with the laughter of her friend.

'''''''''''

Colonel Jack O'Neill, sitting in a room brimming with activity and noise, had never felt so alone. An island of ice amidst the warm and bustling cafeteria, he sat isolated by his rank and stoic demeanor. In many ways, this was exactly what he wanted. He had been frozen from the moment the news had come. His boy was dead. He was killed for being a mutant with his mother. Jack hadn't been able to protect him; he wasn't even there. They had died alone while he was far from home doing the business of his country.

Ice had been his son's power. To let go of the ice that surrounded his heart would be to let go of his son. He would not let go.

"Hey Colonel," a voice permeated his silence and he turned his eyes to see the friendly attention of a man holding a tray. Reluctantly, Jack nodded his head inviting him to sit.

"Kowalski," he said and then, "Ferretti," as another person joined them. Sometimes, there was no escaping friends. Sometimes, Jack was no longer sure that he wanted to. Then his wandering eyes took in another figure, looking slightly lost as he gazed around the full room. Dr. Daniel Jackson, Jack repeated to himself, civilian scientist, sensory empath. The man finally settled on a table not far from Jack's where two women had waved him over. He hadn't seen Jack. Jack didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

"So you actually are taking a break, Dr. Jackson?" the smaller woman asked with a warm smile as Daniel sat down, "And at a decent hour too!" Jack missed his reply when Ferretti finally managed to pull his attention back towards them.

"Scientists and civilians," he announced with a theatrical shudder, "We really hit the jackpot with this assignment."

"Yeah," Jack answered dutifully, but soon his eyes turned once again towards long hair and glasses covering blue eyes. He was startled when a wave of concern broke momentarily over his icy interior and his eyes snapped back towards Kowalski and Ferretti. Sensory empath, he remembered, he must have started to mimic the scientist's power without even realizing. He made more of an effort to follow their conversation, though he remained quiet himself, finally allowing a small smile to break at their antics. He would never let go of the ice, he knew that, but maybe…maybe he could still feel the sun.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Teal'c looked over the destruction of his home with a face of stone. His god had done this. Apophis had done this. Because Teal'c's son had dared to be gifted with the power of the gods.

"Rya'c is safe. As is his mother." Teal'c did not turn or acknowledge the voice of his mentor. His home was burning. Finally, after a moment of silence, he spoke.

"The power of Apophis comes in a jewel upon his hand. My son's power comes from within. It is Apophis who is false." He felt his symbiote stirring within his stomach pouch and had to resist the urge to plunge his hand into the pouch and pull the snake from its depths. He had to nurture the snake or he would die. He had seen the death that awaited the end of his symbiote on the day Cronos reached into his father's prim'tah to crush the Goa'uld larva within. If Apophis had succeeded in the murder of his son, Teal'c wondered if he would have done it anyway. Probably not. First he would have needed revenge.

"Come Teal'c, before they return," Bra'tac insisted and finally Teal'c moved. Apophis had not succeeded. Forewarned, his family had fled.

"We will take them to Ra," Bra'tac continued, "He accepts those who hold the inner power."

"I will not save my son from one false god to give him to another," Teal'c answered firmly.

"No," Bra'tac agreed, "But it's a place to start. Hide him among Ra's people; they are used to the power and will not spurn you. I have spies among them." After deep consideration, Teal'c had to concede to his mentor's plan.

"I will take them to Abydos," he said, "But I will not submit to Ra's rule."

"Just worry about getting your family to the gate," Bra'tac insisted, "I will get you passage through the Chappa'ai. After that you are on your own."

''''''''''''''''''

Daniel had never liked cover stones. They were generally large and heavy with the weight of phantom blood that had nothing to do with the stone's memories and everything to do with Daniel's own. This stone was no exception. Beneath the crushing weight of Cheyenne mountain, locked within depths so deep that Daniel still needed a calming pill to reach the bottom, it sat alone, its mysteries inscribed down its surface awaiting the one who could finally understand.

Daniel stared at the inscription with the intensity of finely honed senses. Not even the stench of remembered blood could overcome his concentration once he was in deep enough. Now only the symbols danced within his head, replaying themselves over and over. He had seen them before.

He knew he had seen them, somewhere, but for once his perfect memory failed him. They weren't Egyptian hieroglyphs, despite the rest of the writing in the stone, yet they were familiar. Lightly, he reached out with his hands, trying to gather a picture of the stone's essence, of the carvers from long ago. The memory was long; the stone remembered sand and wind and sand again. Daniel got a brief image of a metallic ring, hovering like a ghost beyond the cover stone.

He had gotten that before, the first time he touched the stone. No one had mentioned a ring to him, and long standing caution kept him from mentioning it. Either they had this ring and didn't want him to know, or they didn't. Either way, speaking would not help. The ring did not help with his translation, despite the way it provided new glyphs, whispering over his vision in brief flashes. Like the glyphs on the cover stone they were familiar. And like these glyphs they were utterly unfathomable.

Once more Daniel closed his eyes, as he had for the last two weeks, and tried to run them through his head, like a computer seeking familiarity in the shapes. He ran them by all the languages he had learned, seeking similarities, but so far he had had no luck. Those images that did appear similar were too scattered, giving only the illusion of knowledge without any practical applicability.

"Stargate…" he whispered, feeling something ancient and utterly alien emanating from the stone, "Stargate…" Finally, he lowered his head in weary frustration. He felt close, so close, like if he just turned slightly and reached out he'd have it. He was missing something up close and obvious. Turning away abruptly, he went for the coffee. Absently he noted that it was the middle of the night. He should be going to bed, not drinking more coffee; he should be refreshing his mind for a new look at the puzzle. Instead, he reached for the coffee pot, only to find it was empty.

Blearily he stretched, considered defeat, and then took up the empty pot to fill it with water from a nearby fountain, nodding absently towards one of the ever present guards. This one was obviously bored, reading a paper with only half an eye out for trespassers. Daniel glanced towards the paper as he waited for the coffee pot to fill then turned away, only to turn back again. For one brief second, he had thought he had seen one of the symbols. He didn't see it now, only a series of star constellations, something to do with the zodiac he thought. Then he blinked and something clicked.

Forgetting about coffee, letting the water slosh carelessly he leapt towards the paper for a closer look. The stumbling sleepiness from before left him as his limbs filled with the fresh excitement of discovery. He was halfway into the room, grasping the paper before him before he realized he had just snatched it out of the bored guard's hands. He turned back with a befuddled apology, not even waiting for the guard's permission to keep it before he ran back towards the glyphs. It all made sense, the puzzle pieces shifting in his mind to fit together at last. It was all in the stars. A star gate.

'''''''''''''''''''''

Senator Kinsey watched the news with a barely contained scorn. The media had leapt upon the mutant phenomenon with gluttonous lust, devouring every angle with all the finesse of a ravenous hyena. Scientists came on to try and explain the genetics behind the developing abnormalities, deluded prophets champed for their chance in the limelight to dramatically predict the end of the world, the newest mutant celebrities played in the tabloids and there was always the savage violence perpetrated by the anti-mutant groups, or in turn by the occasionally destructive mutant.

"They're not even human!" one woman declared, pulling her children close with a protective shudder, "They're saying they're evolved into something else. I don't think our same rights should apply to someone who isn't human." When asked what she would do if one of her own children were to develop a mutant ability, the woman became angry, refusing to accept the possibility. Her children would not become freaks.

"They're, like, the new gays," another person insisted from amidst a pro-mutant rally, "I mean, they can't help the way they're born, and they can't change it, you know, but, like, there's all this hatred towards them, especially with the church. And some people are a bit afraid, you know? But the real monsters, really, are all those guys out there hurting people. Killing kids, hurting them, just for being different. They're the freaks out there, not the mutants."

"It's all a government conspiracy," another interviewee informed the press, hiding huddled beneath a large raincoat so that all anyone could see was his eyes, "Genetic engineering, they put this crap in our food, and it's changing us. Changing our children. They put it in the vaccines."

As the stories slowly degraded from there, Senator Kinsey switched his television off. There were so many contradicting stories that it was hard to get a real feel for what was happening. People were panicking, unable to understand or to accept anything that challenged their century old beliefs. Kinsey knew the truth. The mutants were an abomination. He was not surprised so many anti-mutant terrorist groups had arisen. With the government doing nothing to ensure the nation's safety, it was only natural that the citizens would take action into their own hands. The violence was regrettable, of course, but not unsurprising.

And now it seemed their very own government was setting up a school to shelter those genetic abominations. New laws were being put into motion to protect their rights. Of course, others were in motion to protect true humans from this unprecedented danger. They wanted all mutants detained. Kinsey felt a shift in powers, and he knew where he wanted to stand when it all settled. Hammond could have his school and his labs. In the end, once all the mutants were gathered inside, it would not be too difficult to shut the door behind them.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"Ah, right, and that brings us to our problem with the calculus teacher."

"Which is?" Hammond demanded, gallantly refraining from rubbing his forehead in frustration.

"There isn't one," Dr. Arnolds answered, shuffling his notes and glancing up at the others seated around the table.

"What about Mr. Williams, he knows algebra at least."

"True, but he's already teaching fourteen other classes. There are only so many duplicates of himself he can make."

Hammond nodded his head in acknowledgment. It was a relief when the phone rang, interrupting Major Lenner's newest suggestion. Hammond answered the phone with an apologetic motion towards the table. A few seconds later he set it down. Major Davis would have to field the rest of this meeting; he had business downstairs.

Sometimes delegation was a good thing.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Catherine Langford watched with twinkling eyes, her expression just shy of smug, as Dr. Daniel Jackson connected the dots. Everyone else watched with bewildered confusion, their own carefully organized notes scattered beneath the awkwardly strewn star chart. Dr. Jackson's own notes were displayed in an ungainly heap, set aside in favor of his visual aides. It didn't seem possible that this man with his barely contained enthusiasm bubbling over into a mess of paper and nerves, this shy, anxious man with glasses askew and his hair tumbling down his face, could possibly have just done what he seemed to have done.

Oblivious to the bewildered stares, Dr. Jackson continued his crude drawing of a cube around six points that criss crossed over a single point in the center. He had already explained that the symbols on the cover stone were, in fact, constellations, and was now trying to explain what he thought they meant. They were a map.

"So as can see," he finished, "the six symbols represent six points in space, which of course are what you need to define any point in three-dimensional space."

"But you said there are seven symbols," someone protested.

"Right," Daniel said, adding a final dot some ways away from his cube, "There was a seventh symbol, in fact, below the others, which I believe must be the point of origin." Finally, he connected the final dot to the first. Then he sat back and waited for questions. At least half his audience, most notably the scientists, had already grasped the implications. The other half were still gawking, trying to catch up.

"Look," someone said at last in a slightly disgruntled tone, "This is all very well but that symbol isn't on the ring."

"Ring?" Daniel asked, latching onto the word, "What ring?" But the man shut up quickly, glancing towards the two men at the head of the table where General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill were watching the proceedings with ill concealed amusement. The colonel looked to the general, awaiting his decision, but Hammond still hesitated. Officially, he had not been given permission to reveal anything beyond the cover stone. Unofficially, he had been given some leeway in the case of Dr. Jackson's unexpected success. The higher ups were desperate for any show of progress. Still, he hesitated.

"General Hammond," Catherine admonished, waiting hopefully. She had said from the beginning that he should be shown. The general considered his options, then glanced towards the colonel giving an almost imperceptible nod. It was time Dr. Jackson saw the stargate.

Samantha Carter silently fumed as she calculated another complex problem in her head. Before her was the ring, the great and mysterious puzzle that it seemed no one had been able to figure out in all the years since it had been found. Even more vexing, Sam could not figure it out. She could untangle years worth of computer bugs, realign and recalibrate systems, increase the power, and improve dampening fields...but she could not actually make the device do whatever it was meant to do. She had been shown the six symbols found on the cover stone. When the six symbols were dialed, using her program, she could read the power fluctuations, make adjustments as needed, but she could not say why, in the end, nothing happened. It was like there was a short somewhere; it powered up, got ready to go, and then powered down again. It was enough to drive anyone insane, especially when she got the very strong feeling that she was missing something incredibly obvious.

"Dr. Carter," someone called, getting her attention and she lifted her head to see people standing at the observation window. There was another reason to fume. She hadn't been invited to hear Dr. Jackson's discovery. She told herself she was too busy for secret meetings and that it wasn't anything personal, that the infamous Dr. Jackson couldn't possibly have discovered anything too important; he hadn't even seen the stargate so how could he possibly have uncovered its secrets? Well, he had seen it now.

Dr. Jackson was staring at the ring in open awe, his blue eyes sparkling with the thrill of the unknown. He descended to Carter's domain, rapt enthusiasm painted across his face. And then he did it. Dr. Samantha Carter was showing him a basic scroll through the ring's symbols, and he called for it to freeze. With a marker that Sam swore had better not be permanent, he drew directly on the screen, adding to the picture. It was the seventh symbol.

Understanding hit Sam like a ton of bricks, even as she and her crew scurried to start up the dialing sequence. There were seven symbols. That was where the short was; they had never dialed far enough. Now, too excited to even feel bitter that it was Dr. Jackson's discovery, she watched as the ring began to spin.

"Chevron one locked." One by one, the symbols were entered. Just like always, the energy spiked, the entire monstrosity trembling with barely contained, phenomenal power just waiting to be unleashed. They could feel it beneath the very soles of their feet. Absently, Sam was already considering what they would need to do to fix that, but most of her concentration was centered upon the impending realization of years and years of work.

"Chevron six locked."

"That's as far as we've ever gotten," she whispered, almost bouncing in anticipation as the ring spun for the final time, finally stopping upon the symbol Daniel had indicated.

"Chevron seven is locked." Everyone held their breaths, waiting expectantly.

The ring's interior exploded into a billowing whirlpool of blue, before it fell back into itself, finally settling into a strange, almost liquid surface; like a lake somehow turned upon its side. For one moment, all anyone could do was stare.

"The probe, where's the probe?" Hammond demanded, staring right over Sam's shoulder and she jumped, suddenly remembering her job as she started to take readings. Any anger she had been feeling had vanished in the light of discovery. Someone else had taken up the general's command and soon a gainly wheeled monstrosity was rolling its way with slow precision up a metal ramp towards the blue field emitted within the ring.

As someone else operated it, Sam continued to take readings, oblivious to the speculating conversation that surrounded her. Now it was Daniel at her back, naturally gravitating towards the only person in the room who's delighted curiosity approached his own. He may not understand what all those readings meant, but he could get a feel, through her, of their significance. Then the probe reached the stargate and lightly sent out an electronic arm. It passed into the blue field as though it were water, stayed poised momenterily just under its surface, then the entire machine went rumbling the rest of the way over the ramp and disappeared into the blue.

"It wasn't me," the control operator exclaimed, "That thing just...sucked it in!" Nobody answered as they waited, watching the screens. Computer systems that had made no sense when Sam was first asked to design them now took on meaning as information was processed. In a moment, a basic map was being sent back, the final results shocking.

"It's...this is incredible!" Sam exclaimed, looked down at the readings, "It's on the other side of the galaxy!"

"Getting a visual," the controller commented, and a moment later everyone could see a fuzzy, dark picture.

"The place has an Earth-like atmosphere," Sam continued, her voice filled with amazement as she continued to study the readings the probe was sending back. She finally took a moment to consider the picture. Despite the obviously bad lighting and poor quality, she made out a stone column. Whatever it was, it had been made not grown. On the other side of the galaxy there was not only a planet with a livable atmosphere, but there were obvious signs of a higher intelligence. Finally, the blue field cut off, disintegrating and leaving the ring bare once more. Everyone continued to stare at where it had been in stunned silence.

"I told you so," Catherine Langford whispered, her voice heavy with awed tears, "I told you so."

Colonel Jack O'Neill sat through his private briefing with icy detachment. Dr. Jackson had succeeded. He had opened the gate. He claimed he could do it again when they reached the other side and take his men home. Pandora's box was opened. Now it was time to make sure the ills within were contained.

It is a strange fate to be human. Equally terrified and thrilled by the unknown; they might find an unparalleled threat to all humanity or they might find a way to save the world. Jack shivered, feeling the ice to the depths of his soul. He had been given a chance to die, if need be, by saving the world. Daniel Jackson had succeeded. It was Jack's job to make sure Earth did not regret that success.

Daniel Jackson was sure he would shatter into a million pieces at any moment. They had been reluctant to send anyone through the stargate. They didn't know for sure that they could bring them back. Daniel swore he could. On his head lay the fate of a dozen people. He thought he might be sick.

"Dr. Jackson," a voice called from the door, and he turned away from his rummaging through old books. Catherine Langford stood in the doorway, radiating confidence and excitement. He had given himself into the hands of the military based upon the reassurance of her aura.

"I wish I could be going with you," she commented, eying his mess of papers and dusty tomes.

"There is a lot to do here," he reminded her, referring to the still developing school. Daniel himself had already been approached, to teach calculus of all things. He had to point out that mathematics had never been his strong suite. Catherine nodded, but it was obviously poor consolation when compared to traveling to other worlds. Daniel sneezed suddenly, that anxious, crawly feeling coming back. He was traveling to another world!

"Allergies," he mumbled when he sneezed again, "Always happens when I travel." She simply gave him a knowing look.

"I want you to have this," she said, holding out her hand. In it lay a golden necklace with a round amulet at the end, portraying the eye of Ra. Daniel took it up, a look of rapture coming over his face as he held it in his hands.

"This came from the same dig as the stargate," Catherine explained, "It has brought me luck. Perhaps it will do the same for you." Daniel didn't answer, feeling the weight of ages that rested within his hand. He got a sudden, jarring vision of leaches and cold, malicious eyes that glowed white, but just as quickly the vision vanished into sand.

Several floors down and behind locked doors, Colonel Jack O'Neill stood staring at another artifact uncovered at the same time as the ring. Locked in stone were the twisted, masked remains of some strange caricature to a man. Sharp edged and dangerous looking, there was something distinctly alien about the figure trapped within the stone. Tomorrow, he would lead a team through the stargate. Tomorrow he would stand upon another planet. There was no real way to be ready. But he would be prepared.


End file.
